


It's the struggle that matters

by Jeanemon



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:44:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanemon/pseuds/Jeanemon
Summary: background for my 3.5 Paladin





	1. Don't talk to the help

Once upon a time there was a nice maid who worked in the kitchens who would sneak little Vera and her equally little brother sweet cakes. She was kind and good and saw no problem in giving the twins the maternal affection they craved. She was also without guile and was unable to speak up for herself with Master Sieger found them all in the kitchens together.

When the children went down the next day they were quickly ushered out by the silent staff and the kind woman was nowhere to be seen.

You don’t talk to the help.


	2. The child in the canals

The child the guard hauled out of the canals was no more than eight, a sour faced little angel who was utterly unrepentant as she dripped on the streets. “And what were you doing in the water, little one?” Erik asked, trying to lean over to look the girl in the eye. If he thought she would be frightened he was incorrect, she rolled her eyes dramatically and was not at all intimidated or embarrassed by her state.

“I was going to swim out to the monster. Obviously.” She had an upperclass lit to her voice and her breeches and undershirt were of a fine make. Some little lady escaped from her manor?

“Why the hell would you do that?” Nikolas asked with a heavy sigh, and the little miss crossed her arms and scowled up at him.

“They said I didn’t dare.” She spits out the words with venom and clearly someone thinking that she didn’t dare was motivation enough to jump into the canals and swim towards a sleeping Tarrasque. 

Erik held onto her arm firmly lest she slip away. “All right little miss. What’s your name so we can get you home?”

“Nunya.”

“Last name?”

“Business.”

“Fucking called it.”

“Can you behave?” Erik asked his partner exasperatedly.

Nikolas and the young lady both replied in unison: “No.”

There’s a commotion nearby, a large barrel falls over and rolls towards them. Erik reflexively grabs his sword and tries to pull the girl behind him. But she’s darting around him, racing towards the direction the barrel came from. For a few moments before she’s out of sight the two guards see her meet up with a finely dressed young man with similar light hair and eyes. The boy sticks his tongue out as he shoves a crumpled dress into her arms and the two tear off into the night.


	3. Dance with the devil

“You either need to pick a bride or tell Auntie to find you a husband. Don’t keep leading her on with hopes of you making a good choice if you have no intention to.”

“And avoid these parties? Perish the thought.”

Ranjeet sighed and glared at his feckless cousin. The man should be ashamed, almost halfway through his twenties and still coasting freely through life. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have prospects to offer a wife. The east had been as eager to buy their textiles as the Isha clan had been to sell them. Their prosperity had caused more cousins to cross the portal and settle in Langly. Ranjeet threw a hand up in disgust and left his cousin to sip his champagne and mingle with the Paraaya.

Msti had been to these parties for over a year now, meeting and flirting with every eligible (and sometimes those that weren’t) bachelorettes. Mama had been pressuring him more in her way, mentioning how she longed for grandchildren and how fine looking his sons would be. That was about as forceful as she ever got. For his part, Papa didn’t seem too bothered that his eldest son was slow to marry. He assumed that whatever woman won his eye would take a king’s ransom of a bride price.

There was a new face at the party that night, a small young woman who walked around the room resolutely. Young indeed, if she was old enough to be allowed out without a chaperon then Msti was the King himself. Despite her small stature and her obvious youth she moved with a quiet confidence and grace that he found endearing.

A tall man too old for these events grabbed her by the arm and said something that Msti couldn’t overhear but it likely was unpleasant. Msti hated how these upperclass fops treated their women, like cattle or some other type of useful beast of burden. There was nothing for him to do but put his glass of champagne down and head across the room to intervene.

“Does your father know you’re here, girl?”

The young woman snatched her arm back away from him and regarded him with a blank face. When she spoke her voice was flat and dry with none of the usual syrupy affectionate tones that women used. “I am certain that my father is as aware of my presence here as your wife is, Lord Aberforth. Is the Madam too old for you now that she’s reached the venerable age of nineteen? Or are you planning on letting this one die abed in childbirth as you did your first wife and you’re just hunting early?” Only after giving the party some much needed gossip and causing Lord Aberforth to turn crimson-purple with rage did a smile cross her face. “Good eve, M’Lord.”

As she drew herself up from a deep curtsy her eyes scanned the crowd and for just an instant their eyes met. That brief gaze made him stand taller to try and track her path, but her lack of height and the fullness of the crowd made it hard to follow her. What a shame, she was interesting.

Ranjeet hadn’t came back to pester him yet so Msti picked his glass back up and strolled out onto one of the manse’s many balconies to enjoy the night. He enjoys the stars and the quiet for a few minutes before a soft set of footsteps cross the threshold to his balcony. It’s the young woman from before, wearing a confidant smirk as she shut the doors behind herself. “Seldomly does one see a guest from Bharat at this exquisite of an event. Iyer, Isha, or Misra?”

“What draws your mind there? I could be from any number of families.” Msti took a sip from his glass to hide the smile on his face. What a fascinating girl. “The Sharma clan does more business than Misra and Joshi has a manse not far from here.”

If she were of a lower class Msti would say that she snorted, but clearly highborns would never make such a disgraceful sound. “We stand on the balcony belonging to Davenport Aso, and you dare sully his property with the name Sharma? He finds any new merchant offering spices to be deeply insulting to his personal decree that bland food brings one closer to the gods. And you can imagine that such a man is not at all pleased that a clan of foreigners live close enough to see.” She started to tick points off on her fingers as she spoke. 

“Iyer’s imports of incense and their patriarch’s reverence of the good God of law endear him to many of our fair city’s devout population. Misra has gained repute for their ‘services’ and our dear Lord Aso thinks himself the new Private Dick in regards to solving that ‘problem’. And house Isha imports many fine silks that Lady Aso has been wearing about town. Anyone who gives his wife joy is welcome on the property.”

That explained why Lady Aso had been trying to marry him off to one of her granddaughters, actually. “Well reasoned. I am Msti Isha, pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady…?”

She curtsied in response to his bow and graced him with another smile. “I am Lady Vera of house Medvedev. A pleasure.”

Medvedev, now her sharp tongue and mind made sense. Lord Medvedev was known through their community as a particularly prickly politician. His house had climbed the social ladder in the past few generations, from ‘vacationers’ from Rusk into a grand house. Despite his family’s background Sieger Medvedev was a loud voice calling for regulation of trade and immigration. “Your father has no idea you’re here, does he?”

“And he shan’t know I’m gone till morning and it shall be too late then.” Vera smirked and leaned against the balcony. “I will speak frankly now, as time is of the essence. You look for a wife, or at least pretend to. I need to be wed by the morn. I suggest we marry both these two ideas and ourselves.”

What.

“That is… Quite abrupt, Lady Medvedev.” Msti took another sip of champagne to give himself time to try and formulate a response. “May I ask why the need for haste?”

“I am fifteen.” Another reason to get back into the party right that moment, being on a balcony with a child was not high on his list of things to do at a party. “I assume that you’re mid twenties. Father has an ally he wishes to endear himself with who has recently lost his young bride. That man is fifty-four.”

That stopped his initial argument in its tracks. No wonder why she’d left her home behind and likely bribed her way past the Aso’s guards to this party. “You know nothing of me.”

“You smiled when I gave the Lord a dressing down. I am smart and you do not feel threatened by that. Not once have you spoken down to me. I will do far worse if Father has his way.” For the first time he sees cracks in her calm mask and he wouldn’t doubt that she was planning her next move if he said no.

She was smart and vicious with it and she was lovely, a dangerous combination to have. That would earn her no favors in a loveless marriage and it would be a sin to leave her to that. “If I agree to this hasty plan what is your next step?”

“The Lady Reedemer’s churches welcome all and we could easily have our bond made legal by then. I can play the part of the sweet, vapid young thing bewitched by your exotic charms if you like. Whatever helps you spin the story. After that… Well. You will gain little clout from my family name, Father will be livid. But I am smart and have been trained to run a house. Anything more I will learn.”

Msti doesn’t doubt that for an instant. He should say no to this girl. He knew that he was inviting hellfire to rain on his life. But when their eyes had met across that crowded room there’d been something. A spark, almost electric.

It’s not much to go on, but it’s enough for him to leave the party and follow the little wild schemer through the streets. They’re married by an agreeable priest in his nightclothes despite the hour and loaned a small room for the night. It’s only once they’re shut together in the small and plain room that Vera looks nervous. It’s not an overt display, but there’s a fraction less confidence here, her hands shake when they go to unbutton the many mother of pearl buttons down her back.

He swatted her hands away, taking over and unbuttoning her dress. “You’ll never have a reason to fear me.” Msti promised and briefly wondered if she’d ever had someone like that in her life. “I’ve no plans of taking your virtue tonight.”

“It has to be consummated or my father will have me back.”

“All we have to do is make a mess on the sheets. I’m certain that you can scheme.”

Her eyes dart about and her lips move silently for a few minutes before she gives him a sly smile. “I too am certain.”

They spend the night playing the ruse to finish: making the appropriate noises to be overheard, a few droplets of blood left on the sheets, several red lipmarks on his neck and a few tears to her dress. By the time they lay down for the night, curled together in case of someone letting themselves in unasked, Msti found himself only more fond of his little wife. Hah. Wife. Who would have ever thought he’d have one of those?

Early the next morning he meets his father in law and fully understands his little wife’s reason for flight. Well muscled as a man half his age and taller than even Msti himself, he towers over his daughter as he tries to subdue her. “You little whore.” He seethes through gritted teeth and his glare would make the bravest cower.

But his little wife, though she shivered and gripped his arm for support, only tipped her chin up. “So sorry, Daddy.” The amount of venom in that one word could kill an entire town. “You can’t sell me anymore, I’m damaged goods.” 

Sieger Medvedev closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands pressed together near his chin almost as if in prayer. “You underestimate how I can leverage things, as always.” His voice was almost pleasant now, none of the previous rage was present. “Do you truly wish to throw away every privilege given to you upon birth simply to make me mad?”

“You think I’m doing this to make you mad.” Vera asked flatly, her fingertips digging into Msti’s arm harder. “I refuse to believe that you’re that shortsighted.”

“Short-sighted? I? My dear girl, you throw away every advantage given to you by your station in life because you’re being a petulant child. And to make matters worse you’ve ensnared this poor fool into your silly little idea.” Sieger smiled lightly at Msti and while his voice was almost kind his eyes were furious. “We can get this annulled, written off as a child’s foolish actions. Boris will be placiated, and everything will be as it should be.”

“You did all of your calculations, but you erred tallying the sums.” The longer she spoke to her father the more guarded her countenance became. She was frozen, frigid, and muted. “You assumed that my fear of you would override all other emotions. But,” And there the fury seeped back in, unable to be held back anymore. “I hate you more than I’m afraid of you. I can’t wait to see the headlines, ‘Conservative Sieger Medvedev’s daughter married to Bharati immigrant’.”

Sieger’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his smirk crept a bit higher. “Well, little daughter. You’ve attained what you’ve long wished: You’ve made me angry. Do you feel pride in that?” Msti could feel Vera shudder at his words and pulled her slightly behind himself, standing tall between the two of them. As expected that makes him Sieger’s next target. “You have no idea what she’s brought upon your head. I can ruin you and your filthy dirt-skinned family before the noon bell rings.”

“I don’t doubt that. But ruining my family won’t bring yours back whatever disgrace that you feel has been added to it today. We can end this amicably. No torrid headlines, no grand displays of rage. The two of us go our way, you go yours.” He chooses his words with care, keeps his voice pleasant and calm. “There is no need for this to get out of control.”

Sieger smirks again and tips his head down to regard his daughter who continues to glower. “The grand dame told me once that, as a parent, you must watch your child and train them. Teach them how to thrive, you hold their hand as they learn to stand on their own. When you trip over your feet in a world you can’t thrive in remember that you so adamantly pulled your hand from mine. Just like your brother, your name will be struck from our family line. My lineage will bear no embarrassments.”

“Good. Thank you. What a lovely wedding present you’ve given me, M’lord.” Vera tugs on his hand and Msti bows before he allows her to pull him away and out the door. Sieger follows after them and watches them leave with that same knowing smirk on his face. 

He’d only known the man for the afternoon and he wanted to punch him in the face. It said much for Vera’s patience that she’d grown up with him and had yet to do so. Msti squeezed her hand and his little wife looked up at him. “Come along, I’ll lead you home and introduce you to the family.”


	4. Hey little bird, fly away home

Ranjeet couldn’t believe that his cousin hadn’t came home after the previous night’s party. Auntie Nezihe had been worried as they’d shared breakfast but Uncle Seyyit had been placid. “He likely found something that stirred his soul and caused him to stay out. You know that he is gentle and easily inspired.”

 

How lucky his cousin was to have such easy parents, and how frustrating it was to see him take advantage of them.

 

It isn’t until the afternoon when his cousin returns hand in hand with a small blonde woman. They both look distinctly ruffled and- “Mama, Papa, cousin. I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”

 

_ What. _

 

If Msti were to be believed it was love at first sight between the two. His new little wife was from a noble family, but- “Papa was enraged, he said he would cut me from the family.” She said softly, looking at the ground. “But the heart wants what it wants. How can I not appease it?” She leaned her head against Msti’s arm as if she was looking for support.

 

But there was something about her that sat badly with Ranjeet. She was one to watch.

 

\--

 

Her new family had been both kind and generous, a dangerous thing to be to someone unknown and untested. Msti’s mother had been overjoyed, swooping her up into a hug and breaking the handhold she’d had with her new husband.  “A wife? This is wonderful!” She’d said joyously. Even when Vera said that she came to them with little to offer did she act displeased. “We don’t need titles or wealth, sweet girl. All we want is our son’s happiness. We will provide for you.”

 

She sounds sincere. What an easy emotion to manipulate. “You humble me, ma’am.” Vera said with a shallow curtsy, interrupted by another hug.

 

“Never Ma’am, my daughter. Mama.”

 

“Thank you, Mama.” The childish word feels odd in her mouth as she says it. Vera hazards a look towards Msti’s father, and the man looks just as happy. “Papa, then?”

 

“Of course. We’ll have to have a proper celebration for the two of you later. How very romantic, eloping in the night.” Papa looks to his wife and tips his head. “I think we should leave the ladies to their fun. Come, my son.”

 

That was how Vera found herself in the company of a very chatty, very warm, very physically affectionate woman. ‘Mama’ pulled her through the house, calling out for her maids to warm a bath for her new daughter. “I have been waiting for you for so long!” She said, gently leaning her head against Vera’s as they walked. “My son is very particular. I was starting to think that he would never bring home a girl. I knew it would have to be love at first sight. Something powerful like that would rock his soul.”

 

If Vera were a weaker person she may have felt guilt. In the place of that she felt satisfaction, if she was as good at judging people as she thought she was then this would be a simple family to dominate. “When our eyes met I knew we were meant to be.” It was the best lie to say, a technical truth. She’d seen him put his glass down and start over to her as she was accosted by Aberforth, known that streak of nobility could be twisted. Then, seeing his eyes hold amusement for her bold language and not an ounce of anger at her intelligence, she’d known this was the mark she needed. “I knew my Father would never understand. He wanted me married off to someone for political gain.”

 

Vera took a long soak in the warm bath and dressed in a borrowed dress from her new ‘Mama’ before following her out the door. They went from shop to shop, all business owned by foreign traders, to buy things to replace the wardrobe that would likely be burned by her father. Mama speaks in a language Vera can’t understand but every touch of her hand is warm and loving. 

 

“My daughter died young, Sarin is too young to wed, and Msti just brought you here.” Mama said as she treated Vera like her own little living doll, having her model dress after dress. “I’ve always wanted a daughter to have these moments with.”

 

It’s… Nice. Boring, pedestrian, not at all engaging. But it’s nice. And if this is the price to be paid for having some form of freedom, then it’s a worthwhile expenditure.

 

Congratulatory letters come in the second day after she’s moved and settled into the house. They come from all manner of people, one even boasts the royal seal. Letters from people who her father has wronged, his rivals. Letters wishing her well in her marriage. She honestly enjoys penning responses to thank those kind enough to state their favor. This wasn’t an expected result of her flight but it’s an enjoyable one. 

 

Enjoyable until she sees a very familiar seal and her heart drops. Vera pressed her lips together tightly and cracked the wax seal to read the letter. Grand-mama wished to come for tea and have a talk with her dear, precious great grandchild. Fantastic. This would end horribly.

 

It’s hard to explain to Mama, who was so excited at the idea that Vera would have some of her old family on her side, that this isn’t a social call. “Grand-mama isn’t a kind person. If she wishes to see me after my father has cast me out it’s likely to gloat. I must have tea with her.”

 

“If she wishes to be cruel she isn’t welcome. You’re our child now. We can protect you.”

 

It’s sweet, very sweet. Kindness makes a heart weak. “Mama,” Vera lets herself smile as she says the word, trying to play at being a child. “I don’t doubt you could hold your own against my Father. Grand-mama is not one who can be beaten. Please, allow me the use of a room in the house to have tea with her and do my part to keep your family safe from her.”

 

When the day comes most of the family was outdoors, per Vera’s request. Msti was there, waiting in a nearby room incase Grand-mama wished to see him. The Great Lady, the woman who had crossed the continent before the uprising in Rusk and who had clawed her way up the social ladder in Langly, looked around the entrance hall with an unimpressed look on her face. “I remember when this house was owned by quality people.” She said in a voice so controlled and devoid of emotion that it made Vera simultaneously nauseated and jealous. Even Grand-mama’s voice was a weapon.

 

“It’s good to see you, Grand-mama.” Vera bowed low and kissed the signet ring on the old woman’s hand. “If you would follow me I will have tea served.”

 

Grand-mama seems willing to follow Vera into the front parlor and after one of Mama’s maids has served them tea Vera shooes her out. Grand-mama’s handmaiden waited outside the door in the hallway until she was needed by the Grand Lady. “I had thought you lost with the rest of the family when I fled. You do not hate me?”

 

“Hmph. This tea was let on too long. It is a crime to waste good tea by negligence.” Grand-mama doesn’t answer right away and Vera is content to wait as she sipped her tea (Grand-mama was right in her observation about it’s time brewed) and eat cakes from a bakery that Vera knew Grand-mama liked. There was no point in hurrying the woman. “Your father named you after me.”

 

“A legacy I hope to live up to.” Sometimes it made Vera rage that Father held his Grandmother in such esteem but refused to see the worth of his daughter because of her gender. If Grand-mama had been forged of steel then why could his daughter not be the same?

 

Grand-mama sipped her tea and stared over at Vera with her dark eyes. “On the same day that your father told you that you’d be wed to a man he chose you snuck out of the house through the window like a common tramp and rushed out to a party and grabbed the first man you could find to keep you safe.”

 

It was hard to read the woman. Vera kept that same poilite and poised smile on her face, waiting for Grand-mama to finish. “Your Father is a well grown man who took the reigns of the family from me and brought us to even higher greatness. And you, my little Verushka, outsmarted him. He was livid when he returned home from meeting you. At only my insistence was your name not burned from the family tree like your idiot brother.”

 

There were several things to unpack from that. She still held a name in the Medevedev tree, that was interesting. It could be useful later. Grand-mama had expressed a small bit of pride there, but was it genuine or was it faked? “I looked to your lead for guidance. You let no man dictate your path from Rusk. I would let no man dictate my future for his limited political gain.”

 

“It was a horrible marriage, Sieger could have done much better. You will understand one day, dear child, when you have children of your own. You raise them and hold their hand as you teach them to talk, and you watch them on their own two feet as they become adults. They run off into life and occasionally they stumble.” Grand-mama sipped from her cup and raised a grey brow. “You tripped him that night and he fell. You won that battle, he lost. He should take this opportunity to better himself but he won’t. Perhaps in time he’ll come to his senses and realize what you’re capable of, and if he does your name is still ours.”

 

There it was. Grand-mama thought she still had use in the great game she claimed to now only watch from the sidelines. Just another piece on the board. “Perhaps it will be so.” Vera smiled and tipped her head to one side. “Until that day I shall stay here.”

 

Grand-mama clicked her tongue. “It pains me to have you fall into hands such as these, but I suppose any of them are happy to get their hands on a eastern bride that they’d jump on even this rushed a wedding. If they act as barbaric as their kind is wont to do, alert me and I’ll ensure you safe passage home.” Vera nods, this is all typical things that she is used to hearing.

 

But for the first time, something about Grand-mama’s words strikes her as odd. Not what she says, that’s typical. But the words don’t feel the same. Acting barbaric, when this family has been nothing but kind (and when her husband still takes her to bed in only a platonic sense).  _ Their  _ kind.

 

For the moment exactly what she dislikes about Grand-mama’s words escapes her. To push past that feeling she changes the subject slightly. “Would you wish to meet with my husband for a moment? I have him waiting nearby if that would please you.”

 

“Hmph. Show me what you’ve caught, child.” It’s an easy dismissal to hear so Vera stands from the table and sets out to find her husband.

 

He’s only a few rooms away, dressed finely in whatever they call their dress garb in Barat. Curled in an armchair and reading a book, he doesn’t notice her when she enters at first. When he hears her footsteps he looks up and smiles and for one brief stupid moment Vera wants to grab his hand and run, to keep that gentle smile safe from her line. It’s an easy thought to ignore. “The Grand Dame wishes to meet you.”

 

“Do I look presentable?” He asked as he stood, clearly fishing for compliments because, God, did he ever. The colors suited him well, his well tailored coat showed off his form, his personal grooming was impeccable.

 

She didn’t dignify that with a response, taking his hand and leading him into the room where the lady waited. Grand-mama didn’t glower at him as one would expect an ancient crone to do, she simply stared up at him as if the room had done her a disservice by letting him enter. But he takes no offence and bows low to her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, madame.”

 

“Hmm.” The Grand Lady intoned with a wry grimace. “And this is the man who stole my grandchild’s heart and hand from us.”

 

“Such as I am.” He straightened from his bow and smiled, giving no evidence that he took her manner as insulting in the slightest. “May I do anything to make your visit more comfortable, madame?”

“You may leave.” Grand-mama waved her hand dismissively and, thank God, he left without fuss or insult. When the door was firmly closed behind him Grand-mama allowed the slightest smile to form. “If you had to pick a barbarian at least you picked a pretty one. How does your new family feel about you?”

 

“I delight them. My ‘Mama’ has long awaited a daughter. Both my husband and my ‘Papa’ appreciate quick wit.” That had been a pleasant surprise when she’d misstep and let her tongue get a bit too sharp at Msti’s idiotic cousin. Papa had just laughed and patted his nephew’s back and warned him to watch for her teeth. ‘A woman whose mind is as strong as her beauty is a joy to watch.’ He’d said without an ounce of deceit. 

 

“As expected. I don’t have to tell you to use your time here well. Perhaps they’ll let you go to school.” Mal himself knew that Father wouldn’t, after all. “You’ve always had a quick mind. Law, perhaps. Learn how to bend it to your will early.”

 

“They seem reasonable folk. If I can prove that the investment will be worthwhile they will find use in me learning.” She would likely have an easier time dealing with the law as a pretty little blonde girl as opposed to any of the family. They would be foreigners for decades, if not centuries more. “I doubt they’ll send me off to learn how to sew or sing or something useless.”

 

Grand-mama doesn’t laugh but it’s a near thing. “Your father thought you to be a songbird, you know. One who would chirp along amicably to the tune he made. But, my dear little one, we both know you’re no songbird. No, you crave blood. You’re a shrike. Don’t forget that, and never let these people forget.”

 

Shortly after Grand-mama decides that their conversation is over and Vera escorted her from the house. Again, there’s a sudden strange desire to hug the old woman that’s easily quashed down. One didn’t show affection, that was a hallmark of the lower class with weaker minds. “Safe travels, Grand-mama. Thank you for giving me the joy of your presence.”

 

“Return that joy by growing into something to give me pride, Verushka.” Grand-mama didn’t look back once she walked out the door with her handmaiden at her heels. One of Mama’s maids closed the door behind her.

 

“Is that what I have to look forward to when we’ve grown old together?” Msti asked and it’s only due to a willful soul that she doesn’t jump at the sound of his voice. “Please don’t take it as an insult, but I prefer the you that you are now.”

 

“You would be lucky if I grow to be half the woman Grand-mama is. She’s a living legend.” Long had Father bragged about the accomplishments of his grandmother, how she’d read the country’s mood and left before the war even started. How she’d crossed the continent with only what money she’d taken and with her own heavy presence before successfully settling in Langly. Not even the uprising here could take her down, she survived that and climbed up the social ladder by any means necessary. 

 

Msti looked down at her and smiled, and something inside her twisted. “I think I would rather have the you that you are now, tempered by time. That woman would eat me alive. You, I think, will stay by my side and together we will raise each other up.”

 

There’s that stupid feeling again, warm and filling her entire chest. She stuffed it down and gave Msti a barely there smile. “Who can tell what the future holds?”


	5. Hell hath no fury

“You’re certain you have the patrol number correct, Papa?” Vera asked as she strode forward, not bothering to look anywhere but forward. She’s filled with a righteous fury that she’s never felt before, a cold rage at the mere idea that anyone has dared to speak with her family in the manner that Papa had said.

“I’m certain.” For a moment his accent makes her cringe, it’s clear Vera will have to do all the talking once they get to the office. Headquarters. Whatever building it was.

“Fantastic. Please, Papa, allow me to to deal with this. I have a way with words.” It’s not much farther before they reach their destination and Vera pushes forward, opening the door herself before Papa can.

She poses her question to the first who asks if she can be helped, and they pass her to another person. It’s an old tatic to waste her time in hopes that she’ll tire or become angry and leave. Unfortunately for them, Vera has literally nothing else to do that day or any other until this matter has been solved.

Eventually she’s brought to a pair of men, one younger with a wild fire in his eyes and an older man who exudes confidence and competency. “How may we help you, my lady?” The older man asked.

“As I have explained to several others, my Papa is a businessman in our fair capital. Unfortunately there has been an issue with one of your patrols targeting his business in an adverse manner.” She keeps her tone smooth and calm, she doesn’t rush to speak. She has all day.

The younger man replies and he points his gaze towards Papa. “Sir, I’d-”

That’s as far as he gets, Vera’s hand comes up in between them. “I apologize,” She said in her very flattest voice, pulling up every memory of Grand-mama and trying to emulate that. No soft tones, no pitching up to seem younger. Her voice is low and croaking and if looks could kill then the fire in her eyes would burn this entire building to the ground. “It appears that my manner has left you with the assumption that I am not the one to speak to in this situation. Our transaction will be much more amicable if you speak to me instead of over me.”

The young man opened his mouth to speak again but was quickly shushed by his elder. “I apologize as well for my junior’s interruption, my lady. Please, continue your report.”

They stare at one another as if to judge their respective mettle. “Of course. Papa has been heckled by the same patrol of men for the past week, they make veiled threats and frequently loiter outside the business. You must understand how surprised I was when he told me about this, as long has Light and Shadow Company been known for their professional manner. I told him not to worry, that one bad apple doesn’t spoil the bushel.”

“I know that no person of power in your company would ever allow such an action to tarnish your company’s good reputation, so I have brought forth this issue to you. You are well aware that Langly is a paragon of free enterprise, our beloved King grants safe passage for all who obey it’s laws.” Vera lets the unsaid words hang in the air as she stared at the older man.

Again the younger tries to say something and again he is shushed. “First of all, thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. You are correct that we highly value our integrity. Simply put, it’s bad for business otherwise. I would like to give you my personal promise that this matter will be solved. I’ll switch patrols around and it should take effect tomorrow. I apologize that this matter happened in the first place and you were inconvenienced to come here.”

Vera held her hand out and the man stood from behind his desk to shake it. She has to look up to stare him in the eye now, but it’s worth it. “Sir, it will never be an inconvenience for me to defend my family. Thank you for your understanding in this matter. See, Papa?” She turned to her father in law and smiled sweetly. “I told you that this could be solved quickly.”

The elder held his hand out to her father in law as well and Papa shook it. “Quite a well spoken daughter you have, sir.”

“Yes.” His accent is harsh despite his knowledge of the language, that’s why she’d wanted him to not say a word until she’d settled the matter. Too many people heard an accent and assumed the person speaking as stupid. “We are lucky to have her.”

As they leave Papa strides forward to open the door for her, he wraps a warm arm around her shoulder. “What a mind you have, little bird! I cannot believe my dreamer son found one as sharp as you.”

It’s as good a time as any to put the question before him. “Thank you, Papa. If you think me bright enough, perhaps I could go to school? Perhaps to law, to further help the family.”

“That would be a good investment, I think.” His grin is blinding and it sends that strange emotion rushing up her chest and into her throat and for once her infamous sharp tongue is stilled. All she can do is give him an awkward but genuine smile in response.


	6. The call

It was almost amusing how his wayward daughter had thought she’d won a great battle by running out of his house and marrying a filthy Barati man and yet once a month she still returned to his home to sit at worship. She was faithful to her God even if she wasn’t faithful to her family.

 

Occasionally Grandmother sat with her and would speak with her, most times she sat alone. Sieger would catch Volya looking to her frequently, but at least the children knew that they were not to come near one another. His little disappointment knew that she had forfeit her right to his son when she disobeyed him.

 

But even worthless disappointments could have use, and it was high time that she did her duty to the family she was lucky to still be a part of. Before service one day he sat beside her instead of his usual spot. The little fool tensed at his approach and stared straight ahead, like she could afford to ignore him. She’d spoken so brashly the morning after her flight, claimed that she hated him more than she feared him. That wasn’t the case now, it wasn’t hate that made her stiffen and force her gaze ahead. The child still feared him.

 

“We’ll speak after the service.” How delightful that with one simple phrase he could ruin her peace. And she’d thought herself clever enough to best him.

 

Though she shows some spine, instead of having to track her down after the service is over she finds him. The whelp stares up at him with a face as still as porcelain and doesn’t say a word. Really, how all children should be. Seen, never heard.

 

“You need to have some use.” He told her and watched her gaze sharpen as she takes the insult as it’s meant. God, she could’ve been so much more than what she broke herself to become. A real lady, with a real house, providing support to the family. Instead she’d trapped herself with people who could barely speak intelligibly in common in an attempt to make him mad. She’d succeed initially, but now he felt almost sad for her. Little fool, to demean herself such. “You had half a decent mind for sums if I remember correctly. I’ve arranged for you to have an apprenticeship.”

 

Sadly her silence doesn’t last past that. “I already have a career path.” Her voice is calm, poised, and rational. “That path does not take me towards the financial district.”

 

“Ah, yes. I’d heard. Law? Child, we both know you’re not smart enough for that.” Sieger pours himself some wine and watches the girl’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. She doesn’t react much, face remaining still while her sharp eyes follow him. “I have been nothing but lenient in regards to your childish response to marriage. It’s time for you to grow up and do your duty to this family.”

 

Sieger put the bottle down and reached out with his now free hand to grasp the girl by the shoulder. Such a delicate little thing, bones like a bird. It would only take one hand to choke the life out of her thin little neck. “I have been an understanding father. Be a good daughter.”

 

The mask breaks and a wide grin spreads on her face. Not an ounce of joy in that smile, not even faked. The look in her eyes brings two memories to the forefront of his mind: A wisp of a girl hunched protectively over her drunken worthless twin as if by offering herself up as sacrifice she can save him from harm, and that same girl a few years older staring up at him silently as she’s told what path he plans for her future. “Oh.” Her rictus grin is wide and her eyes burn. “Oh. Is that how you want to do things?”

 

His eyes narrow at the false cheer she displays. “You think to find some way to shame me again?” The conniving little slut likely still thought herself able to best him.

 

“Oh, Daddy. Don’t you worry.” She tells him with a vapid social smile on her face as she yanks herself away from him. “I’ll do my duty to my family.”

 

Sieger isn’t surprised when his contact reports Vera hasn’t shown up, but he doesn’t stoop to her level and take the fight into the streets. He waited as patiently as he could for the next day of worship. But as the clock strikes the time his infuriating child is nowhere to be seen. He feels Grandmother’s eyes on him the entire service and afterwards she goes to him, cane clicking forebodingly on the floor.

 

“What have you done.” She says flatly, and there’s no doubt in Sieger’s mind that she not only knows what he has done but she also knows what his little disappointment has done as well. She simply wants to hear him admit to yet another failure.

 

“I told her it’s time she served the family. Of course she refused to do such.” Such an infuriating child. He should’ve taken care of her the first time he saw that wilful look on her face.

 

Grandmother sighed and stared up at him with disappointment. “Do not engage her further. You do not have the ability to speak with her in a constructive manner. I will attend to this situation and bring her back to the fold.” He made a face at that and she glowered. “Wipe that expression from your face, boy. Do you have any idea where you caused that girl to fly off to?”

 

\---

 

_ All right. Breathe. You can do this. _ Vera told herself in a repeating mantra as she walked through the imposing doors to the Redeemer’s cathedral. She squared her shoulders and walked with purpose, like she was meant to be there. There’s eyes on her already and she feels a shiver run up her spine.

 

_ It’s now or never. Take control of your life. You don’t have to walk the path someone else has paved for you. _ Paladins and clerics and the faithful of a Goddess who preached redemption watch her intently. They make no move to intercept her but lay in wait should she prove to be her father’s daughter.

 

Their alertness heightens as she continues on her path, target in sight. The first time she’d met the man he’d seemed just a happy old man in his nightgown pleased to wed two young lovers in the middle of the night. She’d met him after that and learned his title, but it was true Vera fashion that she went big or went home. To have the Redeemer’s holiest servant officicate her wedding had been enormous.

 

It’s to him that she walks, hands balled into fists at her side to disguise their shaking. Vera knew she didn’t belong in here, knew she’d been made for War in all its forms. “Your Holiness.” She pushed through the fear of rejection and bowed low. “I wish to start on the path of redemption.”

 

Though there must have been misgivings from those who watched, thoughts that this was some sort of trap or that Vera had to have an ulterior motive, His Holiness just smiled. “Wonderful!” He said cheerfully, reminding her of that night he married her.

 

\---

 

Nikolas looked over the group of initiates, little faithful fledgelings that would in time grow to be strong. It’s a typical group, younglings and a few teenagers. One in particular makes him stop, a little rich girl judging from the quality of her clothes. She’s older than most initiates are and looks oddly familiar.

 

“Girl. I’ve seen you before.”

 

“Very likely, sir. I’ve lived in Langly my entire life.”

 

There it is, the way that she talks reminds him. She sounds like she thinks she’s better than everyone, and that tone of voice combined with her appearance- “I hauled you out of the canals when you were a kid, didn’t I?”

 

Kid has an excellent poker face, she doesn’t show even the slightest bit of discomfort. “I’m certain in your long career you’ve rescued many children-”

 

“You’ve got a shitty twin brother.”

 

“That was me.” She doesn’t even attempt to talk her way out of it anymore.

 

“Well, little miss Nunya, let’s see what we can make you into.”

 

\---

 

Issue number one was that being good was  _ hard _ .

 

Up until this point in her life Vera’s succeed at many things without trying. She had a natural charisma and a pretty face, a mind sharp enough to split a log. Spotting weaknesses to exploit came natural and she’d learned to be vicious about it.

 

But here her sharp tongue made her no friends in her peers nor gained her favor with her instructors. The looks they gave when she stumbled over, to them, simple tasks infuriated her. They expected her to know compassion and generosity and kindness.

 

“Even a child knows how to be compassionate to someone.” She’d been needlessly cruel to someone, it’d been an offhand action. Vera hadn’t even needed to think about being that way, and of course it wasn’t well received.

 

“The only thing I’ve learned about compassion is that it’s one of the easiest things to manipulate in another person.” Vera said flatly to the instructor who’d pulled her aside. She balled her fists at her sides and willed her voice to stay even. “So please forgive me as I attempt to catch up with everyone else.”

 

They held her to a measure that everyone else stood up to, and Vera found herself lacking. Other people could be effortlessly kind, they could see good in others, they didn’t expect a knife in the back. Vera found herself falling behind and she was  _ afraid _ .

 

Issue number two was that she couldn’t keep up in physical training. More than one person had suggested that perhaps the path of a cleric would be more suited for her. But a Paladin could fall from grace. They were held to an impossibly high standard and if they came up short the Goddess punished them. Vera wanted to attain that level and she wanted to keep that level. She wanted to be able to hold that glow all her own because, see? She could do it. She could be good.

 

Vera came home more often than not needing her sweet husband’s assistance in bandaging her fingers or massaging sore spots. Msti would always murmur gently as he soothed away any hurts he could. On one such occasion Vera felt tears begin to form in her eyes. She was exhausted, and she was failing. This was such a stupid idea. A foolish idea from a willful girl. One’s nature was unchangeable. To fight against it was irrational, dooming yourself to failure.  _ Nightcandle did nothing wrong _ , after all. Hah.

 

“I’m being stupid.” She speaks before she can stop herself, because that little part of her heart that feels alive around Msti throbs in pain. “I’m going to fail. I can’t change what I am.”

 

Msti held one of her wrists in both his hands, massaging a sore spot. “I think that’s illogical.” He said after a bit of thought, pretty head tipping to one side as he regarded her. “You’re young, and young people do nothing but change and adapt to the environment they find themselves in.”

 

“I can’t even be kind.” Her voice cracks and she blinked rapidly to try and dispel her tears. Msti had seen her cry once already in their marriage, she wasn’t going to let him see her be weak a second time. “To them I appear a monster. What sort of person can’t even make themselves be kind?”

 

“One who learned that kindness was a weakness, and weaknesses are punished.” Msti doesn’t look to her because kindness comes easily to him, he lets her cry without comment. “Perhaps if you tried a different line of thought? Put yourself in the situation and think: in a perfect world, what would someone do to help me?”

 

Empathy, something else easily manipulated. Something else weak. “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Msti advised, and Vera thought on his words. In a perfect world, how would she feel better? Her head went down and she scooted closer to him, slowly curling up against his chest. Msti laughed softly and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the world and it’s opinions on her.

 

For a moment there was peace. She felt safe.

 

The next day Vera flagged down an elder and poised her first question of what would later be called ‘the trials of Vera’ amongst the elders. “It is our duty as servants of the Redeemer to stomp out evil where we see it, correct?” Vera asked flatly, trying to word the question in the most suiting way. “But we also must follow laws. If the law of the land forbids stomping out an evil, say because they were a citizen, wouldn’t any future evils that person did also be upon the Servant who didn’t cleanse them? What is more important: removing the threat of evil or following the rule of law?”

 

The elder had gotten a very pinched look on their face and passed Vera along to someone else, who passed her along to someone else, who eventually passed her to His Holiness. Vera got the feeling that it was sort of a ‘you let her in, you deal with this’ situation. He happily debates with her but leaves the question largely unanswered and that sits poorly with Vera.

 

They expect her to be able to make judgement calls with a moral compass that doesn’t point north. As her training continues so does her hard to answer questions, because if they won’t help her learn empathy she’d just have to make a rulebook in her head of what to do in every situation.

 

“How much lying, exactly, does the Redeemer permit? What if I am lying to someone to save someone else? Can I lie to someone who’s evil and that I am fighting if it will remove the evil person? Am I permitted to lie if it is not harmful to a person and if it is kind? Is a lie of omission actually a lie; am I required to be up front about everything? What is the Goddess’ view on sarcasm?” 

 

“What is more important, the rule of the Goddess or the rule of Law? If I am a visitor in a foreign land where slavery is legal and I find people taken unjustly from a neighboring country where slavery is not legal, do I follow the rule of the land that permits slavery or do I follow what I believe to be right by my Goddess and just that goes against the rule of the land?”

 

“What is more important to the Redeemer: actually redeeming someone who falls or stopping them from falling in the first place? If I am witnessing someone whom I believe to be in danger of falling from her grace would I step in and try to steer them back to the right path preemptively or would I wait until their free will had them fall and then coax them to redemption? After all, one can not be redeemed unless they fall first.” (That one was by far the least favorite topic.)

 

“If I see someone in need but they do not want assistance, do I help them anyway because it is a good thing to do or do I leave them because a man should have autonomy over his own fate? At what level does my need to do good trump his right to have autonomy?”

 

Even if she’s not getting the response she’d wanted, a clear definition of what was right and what was wrong so she could form a moral obligation from that, she was at least making an impression. It was becoming clear to some that she wasn’t acting the way she did because she was an actual black soul unable to be redeemed. Vera was a child who had been punished for compassion and kindness and praised when she was sly and underhanded.

 

Of course, that’s when she gets the letter from Grand-mama. An invitation for tea and an assurance that Sieger would not be in the house. It’s weakness that draws her back, because she still does love the cruel old woman.

 

When Vera went to her family’s home she found Grand-mama presiding over tea with Vera’s own mother to one side and Volya across the table from her. With a generous wave Grand-mama gestured her to the spot beside Volya. Vera nodded in thanks and sat down, Volya’s right hand reaching over to grab her left. Knots in her chest that Vera hadn’t been aware of relaxed at the feel of his hand in hers. 

 

“I’m glad that the lot you’ve fallen in with haven’t poisoned your mind so much that you wouldn’t accept an invitation for tea from me.” Grand-mama smiled across the table and gestured for Vera to help herself to the treats on the table.

 

It’s nice. Mother speaks softly in a voice that only slightly slurs, she’s almost sober. Rarely did Therese speak, so cowed by her husband. Volya doesn’t say much, but his hand in hers is something she’d missed.  _ Did he hate her for leaving? _

 

“How goes your training?” Grand-Mama asked and Vera felt a lump form in her throat as she looked at the slice of cake she was working on. “Do they have you marching in step and repeating their chants?”

 

Vera continued to stare at her cake and tried to force herself not to cry. This was not the house to show weakness in. At her side, Volya’s grip goes tight. He’s there, he’s real, and he can feel how upset she is.  _ I’m failing _ , she wanted to tell him.  _ I ran away and I left you alone and I’m failing at everything I try. I should’ve stayed and poisoned him. I shouldn’t have ran. I shouldn’t have tried to be anything but what I am. _

 

“It’s cruel what they’re doing to you.” Grand-mama’s voice is softer than it’s ever been, gentle in ways she didn’t think the woman was capable of being. “Every soul is created with a nature and a bond to the God they were made for. Mal made you brilliant and sharp and beautiful, and I know they can see that as easily as I can. To let you cut off parts of yourself to try and fit into their mold is pure cruelty.”

 

She stays silent and Grand-Mama takes her silence as a sort of victory. She lets that topic go and allows Therese to direct the conversation elsewhere. Volya’s hand still holds hers tight enough to make his fingers go white.

 

Grand-Mama walks her to the door to say goodbye. “I wish I could convince you to stop now and save you from the pain, but you are one who needs to learn their lessons first hand. When you are ready to come home it will be waiting for you. I will be waiting.”

 

Vera kissed her Grand-Mama’s signet ring and said nothing. The old woman patted her cheek and smiled. “And when you return I will train you to be something awe inspiring.”

 

Longing fills her heart, Vera wants this woman’s approval. She wants to go upstairs to her old room and dress in fine clothes and jewels and go to balls and live that stupid life she’d lived before and  _ this is the woman who made Sieger everything that he is. Think of what she’ll make you. _

 

“Until next time, Grand-Mama.” Vera murmured and excused herself, heart racing.

 

“To what level can one associate with a known evil presence?” She asks the next day to a long suffering elder. “Can I simply not associate with them in a business adventure, may I not join forces with them to fight a shared enemy, or may I not have a social relationship with them?"


	7. Fever dreams

It would do good for the initiates to deal with the sick and destitute. Whenever illness struck the capital those with little money and resources were always the first to get sick and the last to recover. It’s an exercise in patience, kindness, and service.

It’s a lesson that one initiate in particular needed extra classes on. He’d tasked Intitate Isha to tend to the sick and from the slight look of disgust on her face he knew he’d acted correctly. Initiates to the order came from all walks of life, he knew that. But the idea that someone could convert from worshiping the God of war? It was much more likely that she was planning something rather than being sincere.

Initiate Isha moved amongst the sick, stopping by each and giving those driven wild with fever water, cleaning up after whatever mess they made. She did so without complaint other than the muted look of disgust on her face. (Honestly the longer he looked at her, the more he thought that just might be her default expression. Like the world and everything in it disappointed her.) Her pace as she moved was slower than it had been in previous days, perhaps she was finally breaking and judging this farce to not be worth it?

He turns to check up on other initiates and as he does there’s the crash of a bucket on the floor, followed by a thick thud as a body hits the ground. He turns in time to see another initiate scramble over to where Initiate Isha had collapsed. A few long strides takes him to where the Initiate props Isha up, her eyes half open and glazed with the same fever that wracks those she had been helping.

Isha isn’t a good person. She’s been making an effort, trying to learn their ways, but the grace of the Redeemer isn’t a mantle she wears yet. She had no immunity to this illness. As he picked the initiate up from the ground it suddenly struck him how small she was. Isha had a presence about her and a personality bigger than many full grown men. She was willful and dominant and it was easy to forget that she was small and downright dainty, a girl not yet fully grown.

Her head wobbles about as he moves her to a spare cot, coming to rest against his neck. Isha was burning up, mumbling unintelligible words under her breath. Despite her fever she shivered when she was gently placed on a cot, curling slightly towards herself.

\---

It was hard for Vera to remember the last time she’d been so entertained. Sitting at the long dining table in the great hall of her home she rested her elbows on the table and leaned over slightly, grinning at the roguishly handsome man across from herself. “Truly? You were watching?”

“I’m always watching people of interest. And you? You’re interesting.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned a cocky half grin. “The look on his face when he realized you’d gone too far for him to use you? Priceless. Outmaneuvered by his own little girl. He never saw you coming. You did the impossible, and that made you mighty.”

Vera giggled, fingertips demurely coming to cover her mouth. Her guest is very flattering, he knows just how to talk to her. “Ah, and the family’s so easy. They love the idea of me.” They did, didn’t they? Bending over backwards for her. They’d paid for schooling, allowed her to serve the Redeemer, let her out of all the responsibility she should have to do whatever she wanted. “I can grow here without shackles.”

“Whole world will tremble when you stand on your own two feet.” He said with that same grin, the one that makes goosebumps rise on her skin. “Now, I gather that you understand that I respect how your mind works. So, tell me why you’re wasting your time with a minor goddess when you know the God who can give you the life you want.”

That… Makes her think. Her brows furrow as she looks about at the room and its… It’s the home she grew up in. The home she hasn’t been permitted to step foot in since she disobeyed her father. “I…” She faltered, glib tongue failing her. How had she gotten here?

“I get it, I really do. You’re young, your father made you so mad, and you want to show him. You don’t need him, you don’t need his power, you don’t need his God. But think of what you could be.” His grin is so reassuring, it’s like his whole face was tailor made to disarm her. “You’re a smart girl. He could make you smarter. Better.” 

“They’ve got you dressing in linen and silk when it should be mithril and adamantium. You’re learning law when you should be learning war.” Irritation is creeping up in his voice and it makes Vera scoot her chair back from the table.

There’s a good number of things Vera’s afraid of. Her father, first and foremost. The supernatural, woods after dark, the idea of her husband dying and leaving her alone. But whatever this is in front of her scares her more than she’d imagined possible. “I think-” She chokes out as she tries to force herself to stand. “I think I need to leave.”

“Is that what you really want?” He leaned over the table more, eyes beseeching her to look inward. “Do you really want to go back to that family and pretend to be their perfect little daughter? To be a dutiful wife? To grow old and fat and stupid like the rest of the cattle?”

She doesn’t. He knows this, and nothing scares her more than this… This more-than-a-man that can read her like a book. “I-” She tips out of her chair and doesn’t bother to get up, scrambling on the floor backwards like a spider.

Her guest moves around the table and as he does the facade falls away; the face is still handsome but his fine clothes replaced by the finest armor she’s ever seen. Now she knows exactly what she’s been sitting across the table from. “You’re more than that. You weren’t made to play the nice little homemaker or the good servant of the Redeemer. You were made for War. The sooner you come to terms with that the easier life will be for you.”

She backs up into something and can retreat no farther. The God she’d prayed to for years leans over and holds out a hand to her. That handsome face smiles but his eyes burn like nothing she’s ever seen before. “You know where you belong. Come home.”

“Th-The… Wh-what’s important is th-the choice-” Vera stammered and twisted her face, trying not to look into those terrible, beautiful eyes; tries to ignore the longing in her heart.

He’s right. She doesn’t want to be good. She wants to be out there in the world, blood covering her hands and in her teeth as she brings down anyone who looks down on her. Vera wants to watch cities burn, wants to see people suffer, wants to hear the painful cries of those she’s subjugated. She’s got a short lifetime’s worth of rage in her heart that begs for satisfaction.

But now there’s something else there, a seedling of warmth. It’s the feeling of her husband's’ arms around her as he stares up at her father, the first person willing to put himself between her and her Father’s rage. It’s Papa’s arm over her shoulder as he pulls her to his side, gushing about what a smart daughter he has. It’s Mama dancing around her and laughing, so happy that Vera exists and has graced their family with her presence. It’s warmth, and it’s love, and it’s so weak but just that taste of acceptance and support has her willing to fight to be something worthwhile of that.

It gives her just the littlest bit of strength to tip her chin back up and stare Mal right in the eyes as she shudders. “The choice is the important part. I’m choosing to change. I want-” Her voice chokes out as the slightest frown crosses his face. She’s displeased him. “-I want redemption.”

His mouth opens to say something, then he’s looking just behind her with a scowl. Vera has the brief sensation of a pair of hands on her shoulders, then by her ear there’s a soft whisper. “You need to wake up, sweetheart.” The voice says, so familiar but unable to be placed.

And then?

Vera chokes herself awake, rolling off of a cot she’s somehow wound up on. Then she’s on the floor, tangled in blankets, trying to get her heart to calm down as a cleric comes to her side. “FUCK.” She chokes out, pounding at the floor with the palms of her hands. “I gotta be a better person!”

She managed to drag herself a few arms lengths along the floor before collapsing and falling right back into unconsciousness. This time, however, there are no dreams.


	8. Growth

“You leave earlier every morning.” Msti mumbled, face in the pillows. His little wife snorted as she dressed for the day in a long simple skirt with a buttoned up blouse. The clothes she would wear to train in later were tossed in a small bag. “I despise this.”

His answer is a soft chuckle as Vera crossed back to the bed. He has a brief glimpse of her face before she picks up a pillow and smacks his face with it. “Wouldn’t it be grand if I were as talented as you and could afford to lay abed all day instead of learning my craft?” She asked sweetly, batting her long eyelashes. “It would do you no harm to get out into the world in the morning.”

“But should I really chance it?” He asked, stretching and pulling the pillow away from his face. Vera regarded him with such a fond expression before she pulled the bedroom door open. She was always more reserved when other people were around, but the sharp eyed girl with the immaculate poker face had mellowed slightly as years passed.

Years had passed and the girl he’d married had changed in numerous ways. There’s more swagger in her step and less poised prancing, as if she’s already used to the idea that she’ll be crossing battlefields rather than ballrooms. She’s become thinner and sharper, the baby fat melting from her face leaving behind angles and cheekbones while her body thickened with muscles a little debutante would never have. Vera paused with a hand on the doorframe, grinning over her shoulder at him. “Live a little, husband. You’d be amazed at what exists before noon.”

And there’s something different about her that he notices in that moment as she leaves, something he can’t put his finger on. Not her attitude, that was everything he expected. His little wife was a spitfire. Still, he rose from bed to start his day at that ungodly hour instead of going back to sleep. 

She’s laid out clothes for him as she tends to do, she takes joy in making sure he’s eyecatching. He does his hair and lines his eyes with kohl before having breakfast. After that Msti heads to the shop to visit with Mama a bit before he sets off for the day’s visits. A number of older people in their community greatly appreciate a doctor who’ll make house calls, so Msti rarely has to advertise for patients.

When he returns back to his parent’s shop Vera’s there already, helping Mama move bolts of fabric around. “Don’t worry, I’ve been training.” She says as Mama fusses over her. Muscles he hadn’t noticed before flexed in her back and arms as she hefted the bolts and…

...Huh. As people tended to do, Vera had grown up from the girl he’d married to save from her Father’s plots. She wasn’t a child anymore. He’s struck then by a second thought, this one that makes his stomach churn. What if she didn’t like him? They got along well in a platonic sense, yes, but what if-

Vera stood and stretched her back out, catching sight of him as she turned around. A grin spreads over her face and it makes butterflies start in his stomach. “Husband.” She said softly as she crossed the room to stand before him, hand coming up to straighten the collar of his jacket. “Just like I thought, that’s a good color on you.”

“The only eye worth catching is yours. I’m glad that you approve.” Msti gently took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. She laughed softly and blushed a bit, looking fondly at him. “You know, I think that civic group is doing a play tonight. We should go.”

Not at all planned, and Vera’s Barati was rudimentary at best so he’d have to translate, but- “That sounds nice. I’ll need to get cleaned up first, can’t be on your arm if I’m sweaty.”

“You always belong on my arm, sweaty or not.”

Still, she has a point. They stop at home and she freshens up, changing from her pants into garb his mother had made for her. Then they head to the civic center to watch a traditional play. He has to translate most of it softly for her, the speed of their speech is too difficult for Vera to pick out more than a few words. If she minds him leaning so close she doesn’t show it, and midway through the first act she twines their fingers together.

They walk home arm and arm afterwards. “I can’t believe how lovely their outfits were. Exquisite work on them. Spending time in the shop and having your mother tailor things for me has given me a new appreciation of them. And the women were just as lovely.” She goes uncharacteristically quiet for a moment then. “Husband?”

“Wife?”

“Do you ever wish you’d taken a different path, married a pretty woman like that?” It’s the closest thing to self consciousness he’s ever heard from her. If she felt inadequate then she’d hidden that well.

“Vera.” It’s rare for him to use her name, they’d taken up just calling each other by title in an affectionate way. He tipped her chin up so that she would look him in the face and see that he spoke no falsehoods. “I would not trade you for Rani Padmini herself.”

“Good.” Vera smiled and leaned up her her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I am happy on this path as well. While I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I’m glad for my upbringing, I… Well. It made our paths cross, and I think my life would be lesser with your absence.”

She closed her eyes and reached out for his hand, which he gave without hesitance. Vera took in a deep breath and, on the exhale, spoke. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” 

She giggled, then, hand coming up to press against her breastbone. It was a light, airy sound, innocent and sweet. “I never thought I’d get to feel like this. I didn’t think that I could feel like this. Didn’t think I had the capacity. But then you came along and… You made it so easy. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” Her smile was wide and soft, a rare look to receive. “Let’s go home.”


	9. Fall, Goliath

“I got no idea how you’re not falling over in all that armor.” Nikolas said as he helped Vera dress in borrowed platemail. She’s progressed far enough that they’re teaching her how to move in the heavy stuff. “You weigh, what, nine stone at the most?”

 

“I’ve gained some muscle weight.” Vera argued as she did a quick calculation in her head. “Little less than nine stone.”

 

“Hell’s bells.” Nikolas finished assisting her and stepped back gingerly. “How’s it feel?”

 

It felt like… Her mind flashes back to that first morning with her husband, his arm draping over her shoulder as they stared down her father. It feels like that, a sensation she’s had a hard time pinning the exact meaning of. It feels like protection. “...Good.” She said thickly, swallowing at the lump that’s suddenly formed in her throat. “Feels damn good, sir.”

 

“Good. Now, c’mon. Let’s put you through your paces.”

 

The problem with the elder paladins, especially the really old ones, was that they’d seen a whole mess of shit. They had their eyes out for problem children, and unfortunately Vera’d gotten that label. It wasn’t her fault that being good was so hard! She’d been raised to be an underhanded bitch. This whole concept of honor was hard to learn.

 

With all that in mind, it didn’t surprise Vera too terrible much when she’s across from the biggest bastard out there, a young man who’s been training years longer than her. “I won’t go easy on you.” He said as he hefted up a mace. “Try to avoid getting hit.”

 

Vera’s eye twitched behind her helmet. She hated few things like she hated getting talked down to. “Oh, I’ll try.” She assured him darkly.

 

Nearby elder Paladins looked out on the flock of hopefuls. Nikolas saw the matchup between the mouthy girl and the giant teen. “Really. You’re pitting the biggest guy we’ve got with the girl with the biggest ego.”

 

“Perhaps it’ll help her learn humility.” Geralt said sagely. “She generally leaves herself open for attack. If she gets knocked on the ground enough times she’ll learn.”

 

Nikolas stared at him as armor clanked against armor behind him. Vera had ducked under the swinging mace, swinging up with the hilt of her sword and catching him in the wrist with the pommel. He let go of the mace and she dropped her sword and launched herself upwards, five foot of rage and bad decisions. “He’s lucky they’re wearing armor. Girl’s got teeth.”

 

Eventually the larger student gets a handhold and throws her, but Vera’s just as quickly barreling back, ducking down to catch him about the midsection with her shoulder. She’s vicious and rageful and so fucking young. “We have to teach her discipline or she’s going to get disemboweled the first time we let her out of the city.” Geralt frowned.

 

“It’ll come with time.” The big kid is doubled over, sucking in air. Vera doesn’t press her advantage, pulling off to circle him. It has to kill her to leave an weakness unexploited.

 

A few of their members seemed to think that Vera needed to be taught that the world was a cruel place, and that she was but a small woman unprepared for it. It didn’t matter who tried to teach her fear, or how they hovered over her, she wouldn’t back down. She’d snarl up at them defiantly, occasionally even smiling an unnerving empty smile.

 

Geralt seemed to take personal umbridge with her inability to fear and took time to train her. She’d rarely attack when they sparred, spending her time dodging his attacks. She seemed to know that even one blow landing would be enough to take her down without protective armor.

 

She learns that firsthand when he successfully bluffed. In the split second before his fist connected he could see her realize her mistake and try and loosen her stance to limit the impact. Geralt connected a punch fully to her midsection, almost raising her up from the ground as she got the wind knocked out of her with quick burst of pain. 

 

Vera sprawled out on the ground in its wake, desperately trying to suck in air. Geralt stood patiently while she tried to compose herself. The wheezing for breath turned into heaving and soon she was spewing her breakfast on the ground. Nearby people training wince. “And what have we learned?” Geralt asked when it looked like she was getting herself under control.

 

“Wow, pain hurts.” She said, voice strained. “What a valuable lesson.”

 

With a sigh Geralt squatted down to be closer to her level. “It’s that irreverent tone that makes me wonder if you take this seriously at all. If you leave an opening like that out in the real world you’ll be cut down before you can react. If you won’t fear me training you, what will you fear?”

 

“Shit, Sir. I’ve been hit by bigger men than you, you’re not special.” Vera violently gagged again, slowly pushing herself back to rest on her heels. “If I let everyone bigger than me scare me I’d never stop being afraid.” Another gag, and Vera abruptly looked green. “I need to go to the infirmary.”

 

Geralt waved her off, and it took a few tries for Vera to get onto her feet. He has to help her in the end, and when she stumbled off she does so with both arms bracing her abdomen. Geralt moved to another initiate.

 

She doesn’t show the next day, unsurprisingly. What was surprising was that a handsome Barati man, beautiful enough to turn numerous heads as he walked their halls, came looking for her instructors. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I am looking for Sir Geralt?” He asked in a softly accented voice that was just as pleasing to listen to as the man was to look at.

 

A somewhat starstruck looking youngster volunteered to help the man find the paladin and eventually the handsome man stood before Geralt. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. My wife has told me much about you.” At Geralt’s questioning look the man smiled demurely. “I am Msti Isha, you train my Beloved.”

 

...This was Vera’s husband? What an odd match. “Well met, sir. Your wife was not here today..?” He leaves the question open ended so that the man can explain if that’s why he’s here.

 

Something in his pleasant manner changes, the sweet smile becomes a touch sharp. “Ah, yes. Unfortunately, my Beloved one suffered a miscarriage overnight. It was early along, neither one of us were aware. As her physician I want her to take a few days to recover and I beg your understanding in this matter.”

 

There was something in his eyes and his smile that Geralt couldn’t identify, but it made the hairs on the back of his neck raise up. He reflexively checked for evil in the man and found none. That didn’t calm the uneasy feeling however. He thinks back to the punch in yesterday’s training and knows exactly why this man has came to him in particular. “Understandable. Please tell her to take her time recovering.”

 

“Good! I knew that you would be understanding!” Msti clapped his hands and beamed, head tilting to the side. He was still exoticly beautiful and well put together, but that feeling still lingered. Whatever was wrong with him, he and Vera suited each other fine.

 

No comment is made for her absence when she returns a few days later, and she falls right back into training. Young Alex learns a vital lesson for the class that week when he tried to take her down by grappling. He had her arms pinned but forgot that the minx had teeth.

 

Nikolas squinted at the screaming young man who quickly let go of her when she bit his ear. The girl rolled away from him and spat something onto the ground. “Kid, did you bite his fucking ear off?”

 

“Not all of it.” Vera grinned, teeth stained with blood. “Bet he won’t do that again.”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Alex shrieked, holding the side of his head and staring at her with undisguised horror.

 

Vera grinned at him and nodded to the chunk of flesh on the floor. “If you’d like my husband can stitch that back on for you. He’s got very clever hands.”

 

But Alex doesn’t learn the lesson for the class, because the very next week a student nearly loses a few fingers to Vera when he tries to grab her by her tightly woven braids. That put him squarely into bite range, and it’s only by the grace of the Goddess that she chomps on the side of his hand instead of on a finger.

 

It’s not too long after that that the entire incident happens with a certain woman overhearing a certain comment Vera had made, resulting in her spending a night in the drunk tank and spending the following day essentially kicking her own ass. 

 

She was sure there was a lesson to be learned there, but other than ‘The Queen could kill me without trying’ and ‘I still have a weird crush-not crush-maybe I wanna be her-maybe I wanna do her thing on the Queen and wow that’s weird’ she doesn’t know what the Queen wants to teach her. Maybe she’ll realize what the lesson is once the concussion fades.

 

It’s likely because of said concussion that when she’s grabbed on her way home and roughly pulled into an alley that she doesn’t flip out. The only thought her tired, bruised brain can really register as she looks up at the utterly rageful face of Sieger is ‘Same shit, different day.’ “Can I help you?” She asks with a drawling tone, and it’s certainly not the smartest thing she’s ever said but by the Goddess it’s the only thing her bruised brain can come up with.

 

For a brief glorious moment he just stares at her incredulously, like he was shocked at how little self preservation she had. “I cannot believe I sired you.”

 

“Really? Everyone says I got your eyes.” She quipped and that’s enough to make him stop looking surprised and veer right back into rageful.

 

Ah, right, he didn’t like to be talked back to. The hand that had been gripping her by the bicep tight enough she’d have bruises tomorrow left it’s position there and went to her throat, dragging her up the wall and pinning her at his eye level. 

 

He’s saying something but it doesn’t register, all she can hear is her own thoughts telling her  _ he’s going to choke the life out of me and leave me here with the garbage and no one’s going to find me and _ \- It’s enough to make her body finally start to act. She grabbed at his wrist with both hands, legs swinging out to kick wherever she can.

 

Through her panic she gets bits and pieces of what he’s saying, words snarled out with such hateful vehemence. ‘ _ Continuing to embarrass me _ -’ and ‘ _ Worthless, never should have let you live _ ’ and ‘ _ can’t understand what she sees in you _ ’ and ‘ _ Can’t you see I’m busy _ -’ before she’s suddenly released, sliding down the brick wall and gasping for air.

 

But she’s not the only one on the ground, when her head stops spinning she can see her Father on his knees in the alley sucking in air and looking like he’s trying not to vomit. Behind him is a member of the city guard, an older man with a familiar face. “You all right, Miss?”

 

Vera gave him shaky thumbs up because speaking was currently not in the cards. Sieger manages to get back onto his feet and glowers at the old man, who doesn’t seem to be fazed. “You have no right to assault-”

 

“You’ll find the Kings law dictates that I do, in fact.” The old man says, and finally Vera’s able to place him. One of the few remaining of the paladin guards left: Richard, the infamous Private Dick. “I’m permitted to step in when my judgement allows it.”

 

“The Kings law doesn’t say how I can discipline my daughter-” His daughter, right. Only when it’s convenient for him, as per usual.

 

“Sir Medvedev, if you want to beat your daughter you’ll have to do it within the walls of your own home and not on the streets.” Private Richard said dryly and Vera felt like the man was almost chiding her Father.

 

Sieger didn’t like his tone, that was for sure. But before the man could say anything else, Vera found her voice. It rhasped a bit and her throat ached, but it was in her blood to want to get the last word. “Daddy, would you tell Grand-mama I won’t be over for tea again?”

 

From the look he gives to her it’s clear he’s weighing options in his head: trying to finish the job of strangling her versus the likelihood of Private Richard being able to stop him before he did the job. Apparently he decided that a man twenty years his senior would still be able to kick his ass because he dusted off his jacket and walked out of the alley like it was his own choice to do so.

 

Vera leaned back against the wall and smiled up at the man who’d saved her and, Goddess, she feels so fucking broken. Nothing had gone right lately. Was the struggle really worth this? Was Grand-Mama right, and one couldn’t change from their nature?

 

Then the old man’s leaning over a bit, helping her to her feet. “C’mon, kid.” He said as he nodded towards the alley entrance. “You look like you need a drink.”


	10. Would it be that words could be unsaid

It was more than a longshot, Gennadiy knew that. To enter his Father’s home years after he’d left it to start his own life. 

 

“I hadn’t thought you this stupid.” The man stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded behind his back as he slowly descended. It had been years since he’d been back in the city, years since he’d seen the man, but he was every bit as imposing as he’d been then. “I know that I made myself clear. You are no family of mine.”

 

Only once Sieger stood at the foot of the stairs could Gennadiy see any difference from his memories. Greying at his temples, more lines in his face, and his eyes burned even crueler than before. Time had not tempered him. “I need your help.”

 

The old man looks surprised, then he grinned wide and easy. “Hilarious. You spit in my face, throw the mantle of our family to the dirt, and you crawl back to me for help? Why in the world would I waste my resources on you?”

 

Father loved few things more than gloating and being right. “My daughter is ill.” Gennnadiy looked to the floor and isn’t it strange how old habits come to the surface during stressful times. “Whatever you require from me I will do if she can be helped.”

 

“What could I want from you? You’re less than nothing now. Even more of a disappointment than your mother.” Sieger turned as if to go back up the stairs, then he smiled over his shoulder. “Kneel.”

 

To humiliate him, then? Even if it was a long shot his pride was nothing compared to what he could gain. Gennnadiy took a knee and bowed his head. “I was wrong to do what I did.” He said as he regarded the rug on the floor. Sieger turned back to him, walking closer. “You were right. I’m nothing without the family. You’re always right.”

 

“I am.” Sieger stood near enough to touch and Gennadiy dropped his head down. He shifted down to both knees, forehead almost to the ground at his father’s feet. Just like old times. “Look at you. If I hadn’t disowned you I’d be ashamed to be your father. Even the girl has more pride than you.”

 

“I’m nothing.” His voice echoes years long past, when he was a young man at his father’s feet, begging for forgiveness from some minor problem. He’d swore when he left that he’d bow to no man ever again, but becoming a father himself taught that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his children.

 

Sieger’s answer comes as it always did in situations like this: his foot drew back and kicked him to the face. “Get up and out of this house. I hope your worthless commoner brat dies, better yet if she takes the whole crop with her.” Gennadiy wiped the blood from his nose and flicked his hand on the floor. “If you’re not gone by the time the guards get here, I’ll see you in chains like the worthless animal you are.” Then, to the hall at large: “Whatever maid let him in is to be fired immediately.”

 

Without further word Sieger turned and strode up the stairs. Gennadiy rose to his feet and turned, gritting his teeth. He’d known it was a long shot, more than that. But what else could he do? Elsie could barely breathe from her coughing, none of the healers or aunties could help her. There was nothing-

 

“Genny?” It’s a voice he hasn’t heard since he left, and much it had changed since then. His only little brother wavered on his feet, staring up at Gennadiy with a flushed face. He looked-

 

_ “You ran away and left us alone! Without you, Father turned his eye on Volya and my brother shattered-!” _

 

He looked terrible. It was said overconsumption of alcohol would make one age quicker, and Volya looks older than his scant eighteen years. Flesh around his eyes puffy, eyes bloodshot, and he overall looked jaundiced. And his eyes were so empty as he smiled as he reached over for Gennadiy’s forearm with both his hands. “It’s been so long. He’s in a mood, come along, we’ll just walk.”

 

Volya led him out the door and off the property, teetering as he walked. Gennadiy didn’t know what to say to him. He’d felt guilt at leaving his siblings behind, but there was no chance for him to survive Sieger’s abuse any longer. His wrist still bore scars from where he’d tried escape that way. What was it that Sieger had said when the healers had been done with him? Ah, right. ‘So worthless you can’t even cut the right way.’

 

“You said…” Volya continued to speak as he leaned on his older brother. “Your daughter is ill?”

 

“Elsie. She’s four.” Gennadiy managed to say, throat tight. “Can’t hardly breathe for her coughing, none of the healers at home can help her. He has influence, didn’t figure it could hurt to try.”

 

Volya hummed and patted him on the shoulder. “More likely to get blood from a stone, brother-mine. You need Vera.”

 

_ “Do your children flinch when they look at you, seeing him in your face? Do they fear you?” _ “We didn’t part on good terms, Volya. She won’t help.” The words he’d said to her were cruel, the words she said back just as cutting. They’d truly shown their house colors at that.

 

“You’ll ask him but shy from her? She’s not him, Genny. Mmmm, go to the merchant’s district. There’s a silk shop, ran by the Isha family. That’s her family now.” Volya pulled from his arm and teetered a bit on his feet before standing still. “I don’t blame you for leaving. I would if I could.”

 

“You could run, Volya. You were always the fastest if I remember right.” Two twin terrors streaking about the house, screeching with joy when they were permitted to make sound.

 

Volya laughs and it’s a horribly broken sound. HIs smile is warm and empty. “Someone has to keep the attention off Mama. Leaving would kill her quicker than staying does. You should go now, limit your time in the city. He’s gotten so much worse. It was good seeing you, Genny.”

 

_ She’d walked to his fields like she owned them, with such confidence that he’d accept her visit. “Genya!” She’d chirped sweetly, her pale cheeks rosy in the sun. “You’ve no idea how long it took me to find you!” She giggled and sounded utterly delighted, but her eyes were cold and filled with rage. The way they look sent chills up his spine. It only struck him then how much of Sieger’s gaze she’d learned. _

 

The shop takes a bit to find and he has to stop more than once for directions. When he finally does he steps into a shop filled with wonderous silks and a few garments on display made from them. The shopkeep shoots him a look that clearly says that the man knows he doesn’t have a fraction of the coin to pay for the wares. “I’m looking for my sister, Vera. Our brother Volya said she’d be here.”

 

The man looks even less likely to deal with him before. “Might find her at the Redeemer’s chapel.” He said guardedly and Gennadiy knows he won’t be able to get more from him. He thanks the man and goes back into the street.

 

The Redeemer’s chapel is easy to find, a large landmark in the city. But why would Vera be there? She was a devotee of War, just like she’d been raised. War would suit her well with her temperament and cruel heart. 

 

_ “Ah, and this is my husband! We were married last year.” She’s smiling again, Gennadiy doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile so much before. And she’s gotten so good at faking joy. If he didn’t know what a snake his sister was he’d think it was genuine as she beamed up at the foreign man at her side. “I was showing him the lands reclaimed from Nightcandle’s talons and thought that I would stop by to greet you.” _

 

Surprisingly enough she’s there, surrounded by the faithful and looking to be one of their number from how she stands with them. The delicate little thing of his memories is gone, replaced by a woman that while slight still stood with confiance and power. An older man stands before the group of young adults and lectures them and his sister looks nowhere else, the full force of her attention focused on him.

 

He knows not what else to do but wait, standing awkwardly in the church. The only worse place she could pick to infiltrate would have been Wynn’s order. He still stands out in the hallowed halls of the Redeemer, however. Eyes watch him with suspicion even if they’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. From how he stares at his sister and who he looks like, there’s no doubt in their minds what he is.

 

If Vera overhears this before she spots him he doesn’t know, her brows raise as she freezes in place. One of the other young adults says something to her, reaches out a hand to her shoulder. She shrugged him off and crossed the chapel to him. His tiny little sister just crosses her arms and stares up, waiting. 

 

“...Volya said I should speak with you.” Gennadiy murmured begrudgingly, feeling more the fool for coming here.

 

She tipped her head and regarded him cooly. “As you spoke to him, and you still have blood on your face, I assume you’ve been to the residence?” At his nod she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fool’s gambit, brother-mine. What do you need?”

 

He bit his tongue, there was no use sassing her when he was going to ask a favor. “My daughter’s ill. None of the healers can help her.”

 

She hummed through her nose and waved for him to follow her back out of the chapel. “Come along, then. Did you bring her with you or leave her at home?”

 

“I left her at home, she couldn’t make the trip.” He followed after her, waiting for the price of her help to drop. Whatever it was he would deal with it. He would do anything for his daughter.

 

“Reasonable. The husband can go, it would do him good to get out of the home. He’s gotten quite good these past few years you’ve been out mucking in pigshit.” She smiles a bit, eyes sly. “However did the old man react to seeing his pride and joy dressed like a peasant? I bet it was good.”

 

Perhaps he’d be lucky and the only thing he’d have to deal with was her chatter. “He was too busy being an asshole to really be bothered by what I was wearing.” The home she lead him to was a nice one, one of many manors bought by outsiders once the portal had been opened. From the moment she stepped in the doors she was being fussed over by maids.

 

It only took a few rooms to find her husband, curled up in an armchair and reading a book. Without care for her brother’s presence (or more likely, to act the besotted wife) she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Beloved, duty calls.”

 

“In what manner?” The man sounded amused, reaching a hand up to cup the side of her face. A thumb idly stroked along her sharp cheekbone before he turned to look towards Gennadiy. He froze momentarily before his face settled into a frown. It fit poorly there. “Wife.”

 

“Husband.” Vera smiled down at him prettily. “You took the healers oath, did you not? You cannot turn him down. His daughter is ill and he was desperate enough to come to Father for aid.”

 

_ “Isn’t he delightful?” She giggled as she watched her husband through the window. The man was side eyeing a goat that looked to want to nibble on his overcoat. “I picked him in a rush but he couldn’t be more perfect. He loves me already, and I-” _

 

_ “You’re going to pretend that you’re capable of loving him back.” _

 

Msti murmured something too low for Gennadiy to hear, pulling her head lower towards him. She answered similarly while twining their fingers together. They stayed like that for a moment before the man sighed, slowly pulling from her to rise to his feet. “I did take the oath.”

 

“You did. A foolish thing.” Vera bit her lower lip to try and contain a smile, looking to the ground. “I’ll keep him occupied while you pack your bag.”

 

“What are her symptoms?” It’s the first time the husband addresses him and his tone is flat, staring at Gennadiy like he’d rather be doing anything else. He lists them and the man nods. “Sounds like diphtheria. Could be a few other things, but treatable. I’ll return shortly.” The words sound like a warning as he leaves.

 

_ At his words she goes still, nostrils flaring slightly in the only other tell of her temper. “Cruel words, brother-mine. Did you take them from Father’s mouth?” _

 

_ Despite running from him as well she still called that monster Father. How telling. “The truth isn’t cruel. You’ll never love him, you’re just using him. What else could you do? You know what you are.” He’s not sure what rises his temper so quickly, it’s something more than her dragging some poor man into Sieger’s line of fire. Perhaps it’s her eyes. He thought he’d seen the last of Sieger, and to see him turn up in the face of his daughter was unwelcome. _

 

“Well done. He rarely loses his temper. It seems that fight we had is still bothering him.” Vera smiled after her husband before looking at Gennadiy from the corners of her eyes. “How many little niblings do I have?”

 

“Five.” Five beautiful children with his wife, a life he’d never thought he’d have. Gennadiy sighed and crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

 

“Presently? A pint and a warm bath.”

 

“For your  _ help _ . I know the cost will be steep, you hate me.”

 

Vera snorted, how crass. “Of course I hate you, but your daughter hasn’t done a damn thing to me.” 

 

_ “What I am? Oh, brother-mine, you’re one to talk. You stand out here in the fields pretending to be a peasant when you had so much more time alone with him than I ever did. What all did he teach you?” Her grin shows too many teeth, her eyes are wild.  _ “ _ Do your children flinch when they look at you, seeing him in your face? Do they fear you?” _

 

_ Gennadiy has never wanted to strike someone quite as bad as he wanted to strike her in that moment. He can see the result, her thin little neck snapping to the side, her falling to the ground at his feet. How she’d bite her lip and seethe but take the hit as she always had from a hand so much larger than herself. “They will never know him.”  _

 

_ “I still see him when I look at you.” Little, cutting words. Papercuts with lemon juice in them. _

 

“You’re my brother even if I hate you.” She made no move to step closer to him, didn’t elbow him like she might’ve Volya. She was a tactile person to those she was comfortable with, and her isolation away from him further proved that she remembered their last meeting well.

 

_ “Who do you think I see when I look in your eyes?” He knows he’s looming over her, just giving her more ammunition in how he looks like their Father. She doesn’t shrink back from him, she stares with the confidence of someone who’d been hit before. “I think you’re the one most like him out of all of us.” _

 

_ “What makes you think that, brother-mine? The way you threw us to the side as an offering is just his style. You ran away and left us alone! Without you, Father turned his eye on Volya and my brother shattered-!” Her voice broke there and Gennadiy has a brief glance at the person under the bravado that Vera put up. If Volya had shattered she had at the very least cracked. _

 

_ He knows that he should be kind, that he shouldn’t continue this fight. He can’t stop himself. There’s always that desire to get the last word. “And you left him shattered.” _

 

“..No children yet for yourself, then?” It’s hard to start a conversation with her. The twins were years younger than he was and they’d always been attached to one another. He’d always been the outsider.

 

“No.” Vera smiled blandly at her older brother. “We’re past the point of small talk, don’t you think?”

 

_ She bared her teeth up at him, eyes bright. “Well, what can I say? You were such an inspiration to me, Genya. I’m just glad I didn’t follow in your footsteps entirely, if I had I would’ve slit my wrists the right way.” He’s drawn his fist back before he realizes he’s done it and there’s something like victory on her face. “Giving me shit? Genny, you’ll always be his son. All we know is that. So don’t you dare tell me-” Her voice has gone out of control, she’s shrieking like a commoner. Her husband pulls the door open roughly and quickly put himself into the middle of their fight. _

 

_ “Calm down, calm down…!” He urged, but there was no calming that storm. _

 

_ “-That I’m using my husband when you’re married and have children when you’ll never be able to love them! I at least had my brother to love, you’ve never known it! Don’t think I didn’t see you raise that fist, either. What do you think will happen the first time your children talk back? A man’s always right, after all.” _

 

“Indeed.”

 

They lapsed into silence until Msti came back with a packed bag. “I’ll be back in a few days, wife.” But Vera linked her arm with him and smiled.

 

“I’m coming as well. I’m not about to leave you alone.”

 

The trip back home via wagon is about as awkward as could be expected. Msti and Vera sat in the cart, his sister spending most of the time sleeping pressed to her husband’s side. Msti spent his time glowering up at Gennadiy who, obviously, tried to keep his attention on the horse and the road.

 

_ “Get out.” He gains control of his temper far too late to be of any use. “If you’re going to be like this I don’t want to deal with you.” _

 

_ “If I’m going to be- You started this!” Vera shrieked as he husband picked her up bodily, heading for the door. She feels the same pull he does, that need to get the last word in an argument. “Even if you run and hide as a peasant, you’re still a Medvedev. You’ll poison everything you touch!” _

 

Despite his chilly manner towards Gennadiy, Msti is nothing but cordial to Denise when he walked into the home. He slipped out of his fine jacket and moved to Elsie’s side. He’s gentle and soft spoken as he tends to her. “Like I expected. Don’t worry, little one. I’m here to make you feel better.” He gently assured her. “Have any of the others been sick like this before?”

 

“Our two oldest.” Denise ducked under Gennadiy’s arm and pressed her face to his side. Gennadiy murmured gently to her, giving her a squeeze.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on the other two, then. This is contagious and I’d prefer if we could take care of everything all at once.” Msti focused on his task and tuned out everything else. 

 

Vera looked to her sister in law and gave a bland smile. “Put me to work.” She told her flatly, and never did Gennadiy think he’d see the day when his little sister willingly walked out to the stables to feed the animals and muck them out. But she went, doing whatever she could to help them catch up on chores while her husband administered antitoxin to the sick little girl.

 

“Gen doesn’t talk too much about you.” Denise is curious, as is expected. “Or any of his family, really.”

 

“We’re not close. Too big of an age difference.” Vera’s smile is bland and fake. “We’re half siblings. His mother died and our father remarried.”

 

She viciously shoved her pitchfork into hay and brought it around to the stables. “Our Father is a monster. Whatever he has here is much better than what he had there, so don’t think about it.”

 

His sister and her husband stay for three days as Msti works his children through their illness and spends time sharing information with the village healers. With them he’s soft spoken and generous with his knowledge, with Denise he’s firm but gentle, with the children he’s energetic and fun. But with Gennadiy his eyes burn with hatred.

 

“Thank you.” Gennadiy said to the man on the second night, when Vera continued to work on the well she’d agreed to help dig. “I know you dislike me, and-”

 

“I hate you. Get the emotion right.” Msti watched his wife work while leaning his elbows on the fence. “She’d been so excited the entire trip here, coming to see the brother who’d shown her that escape was possible. All she wanted to do was meet you, to talk with you, to show you that she was free as well. Did you know that with the exception of when she slept that she sobbed the entire way home? She was brokenhearted.”

 

Volya had cried when the two were growing up, but Vera had tended to be more sober faced. She’d get that weird doll mask on her face when something really upset her, but actually crying wasn’t something she did. They’d been alike in that way. He hadn’t cried, not even when Denise came in shaking because she’d never heard that tone in his voice before, never heard him say such horrible cutting things. She’d pulled him to her and held him and he hadn’t cried. Hadn’t been capable.

 

Vera dragged a hand across her forehead and spotted the two of them watching her. She put her shovel down and started their way. Then, a mischievous look crept on her face. “No.” Msti said firmly, straightening up from the fence as Vera raised her muddy hands towards him. “You’re not going to do that, because-”

 

Whatever argument he was going to raise fell flat because Vera started running his way. Msti said something likely foul in his language and sprinted in a different direction. As she chased him Vera started to laugh, high and free and sweet. Msti kept distance on her as he unbuttoned his fine coat and tossed it at Genya when he ran past again. Then he turned, and with a look of resignation, held his arms out for her. She pounced and covered his clothes in mud as they rolled over once or twice. Gennadiy could hear her laughing still, softer now, and her husband joining her.

 

“You monster. My poor clothes are filthy now. What have they ever done to deserve such treatment?”

 

“Covering your beauty from the world is a high crime, husband.” They sound so… 

 

_ He loves me already, and I- _ Gennadiy had cut her off mid sentence, but perhaps even then she’d been capable of something that he hadn’t thought she’d had the depth for. Catching sight of her face now as she looked down at her husband with a gentle look made him realize something. If he’d let her finish, perhaps she would’ve said  _ And I love him too _ .

 

She’s likely lying about many things, her newfound faith foremost, but this… He’s grown too used to the way that Denise looks at him and the way he feels about her to not recognize the same affection displayed on his sister’s face towards her husband. It appeared they’d both been wrong about the other: despite how they’d been raised they were each capable of love.

 

It’s why on the morning they plan to leave he asks Vera to follow him outside early in the morning while her husband still sleeps. “I’d like to speak. You don’t need to talk back if you don’t want to.” She crossed her arms and leaned against a fence post, awaiting his words with her usual neutral displeased face. “When you came here last I wanted a fight and was determined to see whatever I could that would support that need. I was in the wrong to start the fight.”

 

“You were.” Vera gave a blithe shrug, face maintaining the neutral displeased look. Then the smallest cracks appeared in her mask, minor face twitches and an annoyed huff. “And I shouldn’t have have added fuel to the fire. We both felt the need to get the last word in.”

 

Gennadiy nodded and looked back towards the house where his children slept soundly and his wife did her morning baking. His own slice of joy that he’d never thought he’d have. “You love him.”

 

“He is my everything.” Vera’s tone is flat but he doesn’t need to hear emotion in her voice to know she’s not lying. It’s the little tells: the uncharacteristic softness in her eyes, the small twitch to her mouth. “I never thought I’d meet someone who made me want to be better just so I felt like I deserved to be in their company.”

 

He let out a surprised laugh; now there was a feeling he understood. “I try to be a better man for my wife, the kind of father my children deserve.” Honestly all he did was think to himself if the action he wanted to do would be something Sieger would do. If so, he did the exact opposite or removed himself from the situation to calm down.

 

“He makes life worth living. I never thought that life could be enjoyable, or that I could afford to be soft around anyone. I can. I was broken and he mended me with gold.” Vera’s stare towards the house is intense despite her surprisingly soft words. “If anything happened to him I would burn the city to the ground and it still wouldn’t be payment enough.”

 

And the moment was ruined. Thanks Vera, for going way too extra.

 

“With an attitude like that you won’t keep fooling the Redeemer’s clerics for long.” Gennadiy can’t help but chide, even if they’ve come to a tentative sort of peace he can’t resist a dig when her tones bring up old memories. “A bit too bloodthirsty.”

 

“Hilariously,” She started with her flat voice devoid of humor, “when one follows the Redeemer there is work to be done at redemption. I’m a work in progress. Some days I do well, some days I don’t. The important part is that I keep working at being a good person and I don’t ever stop working to be better. When you stop trying to improve is when you fall. Even if…” She paused, a look of concentration coming to her face as she reached her hand up to touch his face with the softest of touches.

 

There’s something different that he can feel, a warmth that’s beyond explaining away as just her. The mask of her face breaks apart into a wide smile and she pulls her hand away. “Even if some days I’m good enough that no one can deny it. You’re right, I can’t fool clerics and I sure as shit can’t fool a Goddess.”


	11. In hindsight, she would've been kinder

In the almost four years since Vera had fled from the Medvedev home somehow she’d managed to keep a distance from her Father at the various social events around the city. However, one’s luck could never hold up forever.

 

“I’m surprised to see you here. I’ll have to warn Ulfric to check his guest lists a bit more carefully if you managed to slip past him.” Sieger regarded her cooly over his wine glass, face a perfect mask of a slightly amused parent. His words are soft enough that only she’ll hear, from the outside they might actually look like they’re having a conversation. “And whatever inspired you to think that such a garish pattern would be suitable for this caliber of an evening?”

 

Well, fuck it. He wouldn’t strangle her in front of everyone. “Oh, Daddy.” Vera chided with a joyful expression on her face. “My beloved husband tended to our good host’s wife and brought her back from a terrible sickness, and these colors I’m wearing are all the rage this season. I’m certain it’s hard for you to keep up on current capital gossip and fashion at your age. I’m more than happy to remind you of both!”

 

Silence. Reminding Sieger of his own mortality was always a good knife to stab him with. “I think you overestimate what’s acceptable in regards to current color schemes. Just because they’re in fashion doesn’t mean that you can overstate with a bold pattern. You look like you’re wearing chaise lounge fabric.”

 

“Bold words from a man who wears the same shades of black and red to every formal event. Calling a look timeless is the same thing as saying old and boring.” Somehow the fight has dissolved into making fun of each other’s fashion and there’s a very slight look of confusion on Sieger’s face. Like, this hadn’t been in his evening plans and he’d been expecting them to fight over something actually relevant to the world state. Nope, Vera was going to deprive you of that fight. You wouldn’t be fighting a war tonight old man.

 

Luckily she’s stalled enough that Msti’s noticed her absence. She feels him slide in beside her, his hand gently captures hers. “I apologize, but I must steal her away again. If you’ll excuse us, m’lord.” Msti’s smile was vapid and sweet but Vera could feel him thrumming with that frightful presence that he’d occasionally resonate with. It tended to unnerve people, but Sieger didn’t fall into it like most.

 

“Did he threaten you?” Msti murmured as they walked away, pulling her close to his side as they moved through the crowd. At the shake of her head he sighed with relief. “Good. I apologize, but your Mother had stopped me to speak and I lost track of time.”

 

“That’s fine. We bitched about each other’s taste in fashion. I doubt it was how he pictured the conversation going.” Mother had stopped her beloved? That was weird. Mother rarely spoke. “What did you talk about?”

 

“Nothing important, she’s pretty toasted already.” As the clock inches closer to midnight and the new year a band starts to play music and a few young couples move to the dance floor. Vera elbowed Msti and grinned up at him before pulling him out as well.

 

She’d been teaching him eastern dances for reasons like this, sliding around the dance floor with him confidently leading was a dream. Msti always looked beautiful, but tonight he was especially breathtaking. His ornately embroidered frock coat had been made specifically for tonight to pair with her dress and every time the candlelight caught his face his eyes shimmered like obsidian. She could look nowhere else but him, there wasn’t a decoration in the room that didn’t pale in comparison to his face.

 

The song ended and the hostess of the party swooped over and Msti properly introduced them. They part ways after that, but this time Vera knows that the old man may be on the prowl. He would either be stalking around to ensure any good time she had was ruined, or he’d be ignoring her entirely because she didn’t matter to him (as per usual). It was hard to gauge where his head was, so Vera resolved to keep an eye out for him.

 

She spots Mother watching her from a somewhat secluded spot, and when the woman sees Vera watching her she hesitantly waves her over. Vera does a quick look to read the room, doesn’t see her Father, and heads over. Therese gave a good attempt at a smile for her daughter, but the woman aged before her years by harshness has had few reasons to smile in her marriage. “There you are, sweetling.” Her voice slurs as it always has, Therese has been drunk as long as Vera’s had memories. Mother tentatively reached out and pushed a stray hair behind Vera’s ear. “I talked to your husband.”

 

“Oh?” Vera smiled blandly to her Mother. “And how did you find him?”

 

This time the smile’s honest, wide and unbecoming of a woman of her high status. Therese reached out abruptly to grab one of Vera’s hands and squeeze it. “You did so good in finding him. He’s a gentle man.” She breathed out and that’s real joy on her face. For a moment Vera can’t recognize her Mother at all in this face of happiness. “I’m so proud of you. You got away.”

 

Had this been Therese before she’d been made a Medvedev? What kind of a woman had she been before Sieger had shoved her into the shape he’d seen fit for a wife? It strikes Vera then that she really has no idea about who her Mother is, other than broken down and drunk. “I wish I would’ve been smart enough to save all of us.”

 

Sometimes she wondered what life would have been like if she would’ve poisoned the old man like she’d dreamed of doing. Would her Mother be slightly more whole, or would she be just as shattered? Would Volya be the brother from her memories again? Therese clucked her tongue and let go of her hand, reaching over to touch her face. “Leaving would kill me quicker than staying, duckling, so you stop those dark thoughts. Your brother’s here, you should try and find him while Sieger’s busy being greasy.”

 

“Probably harassing a waiter.” Vera turned to look at the men now coursing through the party with trays full of bubbly. She spots Msti grabbing a glass and couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face.

 

Mother laughed and busied herself sipping from her glass. “He’s either three sheets to the wind or in a compromising position with someone.” The smile faded from her face and she looked more in tune with Vera’s memories of her. Therese looked at her daughter, all remnants of the woman she’d been just a moment before sliding away. “We all can’t fight him like you did, ducky. But between the four of us, the whole town knows he’s a failure in at least one aspect.”

 

Vera’d never seen Mother’s and Volya’s public behavior for what it was until Mother pointed it out, it was the only way they had to fight against him. Impulsively she squeezed Mother’s arm and smiled at her, the very best smile she could manage. “I’m going to try and find Volya, but if I can I’ll be back to talk to you.”

 

Perhaps it’d been cruel to let Mama fall into the place in her heart Mother should’ve always occupied. They should talk if Mother was willing. Perhaps they’d find the time.

 

She finds Volya flirting with a waiter and rescued the poor man from her brother’s advances. “Leave him alone, he’s working.” She chided softly.

 

Volya laughed and slipped his right hand into her left, but something’s different. Where they used to fit together like two halves of a whole now the fit’s off. Volya smiled down at her and there’s sadness in his eyes, but at least it’s an emotion at all. “Yeah, I know. I know. S’rude to flirt with people doin’ their job.” He slurred, leaning down to bump his head against hers. “You look good. Alive.”

 

“You look like shit.” Vera says honestly and her twin laughed. “But you’re alive.”

 

“Some days it’s all you can be, mine.” He smiles easily enough for her, and maybe one day the brother from her memories will get to come back and smile for the world. One day Sieger would be dead and unable to hurt them. “So, about your husband. Does he have a brother, or a hot cousin, or….?”

 

Vera snorted and bumped him with her hip. “You idiot.” She said with love, earning a little chuckle from him. “His little brother is like twelve, and his cousins are worthless.”

 

“I’m not asking for worth, I’m asking for pretty.” Volya said as he scanned the party. “Father dearest is busy with Reginald whatever his last name is, so we’re safe for the moment.”

 

They pass a bit of stolen time together before it gets close enough to midnight that they break apart and head to their respective groups. Msti’s busy charming a group of people who likely would’ve scorned him because of his skin in any other setting, but is a few words to have them begging for more. Vera slipped her hand into his and it fits there just like it should.

 

“Ah, there you are, my beloved.” Msti murmured and gracefully bobbed his head to the small group of people. “My soul, my heart, my lady. My exquisite wife, Vera Isha.”

 

“A pleasure to see you all. How is your daughter Genevieve, Sir Hensley?” It’s easy to make small talk, easy to remember who has what daughter and what son married who. This is her element.

 

“Quite well, she married Sourd’s son a few months ago.” Vera nodded, that was old news. “I miss her dearly, but all girls grow up and out of their father’s arms. Your own father learned that early, didn’t he? I hadn’t met your husband before tonight and I’m quite surprised. Not at all what I’d expected.” Vera’s smile is a bit more forced at that. Oh, she could only imagine what Daddy Dearest had said about her husband.

 

“Oh goodness, sir. Since since when has anyone from my line ever settled for less than perfection?” Vera looked up at Msti with a sunny smile, he looked at her with adoration. “You know Daddy can be so old fashioned. How could I resist someone like him? Has he told you about his practice? My love is wonderfully talented.” She doesn’t even have to fake enthusiasm, when it comes to her husband everything she feels is true.

 

Msti shook his head and brought her hand up to his lips for a quick, chaste kiss. “Beloved, I wouldn’t want to bore them.” 

 

The conversation goes on after that, chatting about this and that and all other things. Vera finds herself commanding the conversation for a bit, talking about the quality of silks in the capital and how to spot if you were getting overcharged she catches Msti watching her with undisguised admiration. It’s enough to derail her train of thought and have her stammering, a flush on her face. 

 

Luckily, the group seems rather taken with the pair of them. Sir Hensley laughed and clapped Msti on the shoulder. “Young love is a sight to see, isn’t it?” He asked his wife, who looked equally fondly at her husband. “Don’t let that fade and you’ll have a happy life, young man.”

 

“I can’t picture a world where I don’t love her.” Msti again dragged her hand up to his mouth to press a kiss against it’s back. “Truly, my life was colorless until she breathed fire into it.”

 

Vera’s flushed face draws a few soft chuckles from their conversation partners, especially when it takes her a minute to compose herself enough to talk. “Pretty words, husband, and my heart sings when you speak them. But you’re the one who brought brightness and clarity to my life. Without him I’d be as adrift as a sailor with no stars to chart with. Forever lost to the seas, yearning to find home.”

 

Success, his face flushed at that. Vera smiled up at him with unrestrained enjoyment and he squeezed her hand. Lady Hensley flagged down a server with a tray of bubbly and they all grabbed a glass from it. “They should start the countdown soon.” She said, looking towards the party’s host at the head of the room in anticipation.

 

Msti pulled Vera under his arm and close to his side as their host started the count. The room quickly joined in, counting down from ten until they reached the end. When the count reached zero the band started to play, there were cheers normally seen as gauche by such a crowd but on a night like tonight were permitted. Vera tipped her glass back and had a bit of the bubbly wine only to have her husband lean down to steal a kiss once she’d finished. Vera tried to glare up at him but finds herself unable to summon any real annoyance towards him.

 

“Happy New Year, Beloved.” He murmured soft enough that only she could hear. Vera squeezed his hand and leaned her head against his chest and, Goddess, she felt so safe and content there. If it were possible she’d never leave his side, she’d be content to stay pressed against him and listening to the sound of his heart and lungs. Perhaps if she stayed good and just, if she followed the path she was trying to stay true to, eternity would be just like this.

 

“May this year be better than the last.” 

 


	12. The wonder that's keeping the stars apart

“I have to go.” Vera murmured against Msti’s temple and the man groaned, refusing to let her go. “You know I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything but age.” Msti argued, shifting so he laid on top of her, keeping her pressed to the bed with his weight.

Nikolas had been pressing her to go out and quest. Said she would never do the growing she needed to do if she didn’t get out of the city she was born in. Vera needed to see the world and challenge herself and her views on things. She’d tried to argue, told the old man that her beautiful husband was in the city and in the city she too would stay. 

But in the end he was right. She knew she needed to get out and into the world and test herself. See if the tentative light she held within herself would hold up.

“Get off.” Vera squirmed until she wriggled out from under him, leaving her husband in bed while she got dressed for the day. She’d packed what she needed to bring with her (lightening the load when an uncle had advised her to walk with the pack on for a day) and had money to buy her boat ticket.

“Will you think of me often?” Msti asked, sounding melancholy. Vera sighed and turned, stepping back towards the bed so she could touch his face.

“Not too often.” She assured him, peppering his faces with soft little kisses despite her words. “Only with every breath I take.”

Her beloved pushed up from the bed, chasing after her when she leaned back. “What will I do without you?” He asked as he pressed his forehead to hers. It’s easy for him to coax her to sit down for just a minute more, to steal a few precious moments together before she leaves. “A day without you is torture.”

“You’ll survive.” Vera promised him. “I’ll come back. Nothing will keep me from returning to your side.”

Leaving the city is easy. Leaving him is harder, and for a foolish moment Vera wants to take him by the hands and drag him along on this stupid adventure. But her beloved isn’t suited for the road, and knowing that he’ll be safe at home while she’s out there trying to grow is reassuring.

He’ll be safe and she’ll return for him. Nothing will keep them apart.


End file.
